


Sins of Old

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: Batman Beyond
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick pays the Batcave a visit; Terry's the only one home</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins of Old

**Author's Note:**

> soooo this is a (pretty belated) birthday fic for tumblr user windsroad (if you don't know her, check her out she's great)!!!! it was supposed to be a lot more fun and snarky banter but it turned out pretty angsty oops 
> 
> (also general disclaimer that I haven’t read the batman beyond comics though I do know the reasons why Dick’s not in the picture any more)

“You will not believe the day I had,” Terry said as he came into the Bat Cave. He pat Ace on the head, expecting to be alone; Bruce has told him he’d be off at some charity slash business function, but since it was Terry’s day off, he could do what he pleased. Of course, it was heavily implied that he should be working on their current case, but he was allowed to gripe to Ace, wasn’t he?

“You could try me.” Apparently not.

The voice was unfamiliar, though it sounded amused, and Terry was immediately on the defensive. “Who’s there?” he called. “How did you even get in here?”

“Relax, kid,” the voice said, and a man came out from the shadows. His hair was graying, and he wore a patch over one eye. He looked a little familiar, but Terry couldn’t place him. “I used to live here.”

Terry frowned. He’d met Tim Drake, and this wasn’t him. He was too tall, too lean. A name flitted through his mind, one that Commissioner Gordon had said once in passing.

“Dick Grayson?” he ventured.

The man smiled, but it was tinged with bitterness. “So the old man actually mentioned me?”

Terry almost hated to correct him. “Ah, no,” he said. “Commissioner Gordon did, once.”

Dick didn’t even seem surprised. “Figures,” he said, and Terry remembered something Powers had said once—that Bruce had no family, no children. There was no trace of Robin the Boy Wonder—at least as he had existed so long to Terry in the legends of Gotham—in this man

“Where have you been?” he demanded suddenly. He was thinking of his own father, and the way he himself had treated Warren, of how he had no second chance to make it right, to fix things, and the words burst out of him, angry, accusing. “He’s been so alone for so many years—where have you been?”

Dick actually laughed, a hollow sound. “Kid, he’s alone because that’s the way he wants it. He pushes people away. You’ll find soon enough.”

Terry folded his arms. “Then why did he let me come here, huh?” he said. “Why’d he let me be Batman? Don’t you think he’s lonely?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Dick said. “Hell, you probably know even better than I do. Anyway, that’s why I stopped by. Heard there was a new Bats in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by and see what that was all about. So how’s about it—what’s your story, kid?”

“I don’t have to answer to you,” Terry said, but when Dick just looked amused, Terry sighed, uncrossed his arms, and admitted, “I kind of stole the Batsuit.”

Dick’s laugh was genuine that time, free from the bitterness of before. He looked younger when he laughed like that, Terry thought.  
“Bet he loved that, “Dick said. “Where is the old man anyway?”

“Some charity thing,” Terry said with a shrug. “You going to stick around ‘til he gets back?”

The amusement faded, and Dick’s face twisted back into that bitter stoicism Terry’d first seen. “Probably not,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

He made his way past Terry, towards the stairs, pausing for a second by the memorial of sidekicks long past—the Batgirl uniform, the Robin costume. Terry didn’t know Dick, not well, but he thought the man looked sad, maybe even longingly, at once was.

Dick had started up the stairs when Terry blurted out, “He misses you, you know.” He didn’t know where the words came from, but as soon as they left his mouth, he knew they were true. He’d seen it in the way Bruce sometimes looked at him—he hadn’t been able to place it until now, but it was some mixture of longing and love and regret and gratitude.

He’d looked at Tim Drake the same way after the Joker had returned.

Dick paused again, hand resting on the railing, just for a moment. He didn’t turn around when he shook his head and said, “Then he should do something about it.” He sighed and added, “Tell Babs I say hi. And good luck, Terry. You’ll need it.” He went up a couple more stairs before stopping again. This time he glanced over his shoulder and said, “You know, you remind me of him a little.”

And then he was gone, leaving Terry in the Batcave. He didn’t move until Ace nosed at his hand, Later, when Bruce returned later that night, grumping about old socialites and how Terry had done nothing to help their case and the duties and choices that Batman had to make, Terry ignored him with practice ease, studying him, looking for the man Dick Grayson had known, the man Barbara Gordon missed (or hated or loved—Terry was never sure). Who had he been, how had he become this?

“What?” Bruce asked irritably, turning to face Terry’s stare.

“Nothing,” Terry said.

He never mentioned Dick’s visit to him; maybe there some things that you had to fix on your own. Maybe there were some things that couldn’t be fixed.

Terry just hoped he didn’t become one of those things.


End file.
